Around the age of 21 I asked my adoptive mother what else she knew about my birth mother and family. Could she give me any other details? She told me I was born at Greenpoint Hospital in Brooklyn. However, my questions made her angry and she wanted to know if I had been happy living with them and why would I ask such questions. The conversation didn’t go anywhere good and I realized I wouldn’t be getting any further information from her, nor would she be supportive of my plans to continue the search. I never brought this subject up to my adoptive mother again. I loved her, didn’t want to hurt her and thought it was best to proceed on my own.
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When I was about 23 years old, I found a little ad in my town’s Penny Saver advertising for "Alma" (the Adoptees Liberty Movement Association), which was big in New York City at the time. I was immediately interested and contacted them to get their application. I couldn’t have the application sent to my home though, as my adoptive mother might surmise from the envelope that I was searching, so I opened a Post Office Box in a nearby town.
I joined ALMA, attended one meeting, with many, many other people, and received their newsletters. From ALMA I learned that the numbers on my birth certificate – 156-53-308087 - could point to my name in the New York City birth books for my birth year.
I joined ALMA, attended one meeting, with many, many other people, and received their newsletters. From ALMA I learned that the numbers on my birth certificate – 156-53-308087 - could point to my name in the New York City birth books for my birth year.
I was working full time then, so on a weekend I went, with a friend, to the New York City Public Library’s genealogy section. I brought my birth certificate with me and asked the person there to tell me which of the numbers on the certificate would point to my name at birth. She said it would be “8087”.
Off we went, my friend and I, to the stacks to find the Brooklyn birth books for 1953.
She took one book, I took the other. The lists of names in the books were in alphabetical order and all the boroughs of New York City were mixed in together. We went up and down the columns, looking for 8087. We were not successful that first weekend. The next weekend I went again, this time by myself. I searched up and down those columns again. Finally I hit pay dirt...8087. It said, "Female, Gonzalez" and had a small “k” in the row representing Kings County in Brooklyn.
I was excited. This was wonderful. No, wait, this is a big shock. I’m not Italian? I was brought up to think of myself as Italian, and now I was finding out I'm of Spanish descent. Wait, Wait...I had to process this information. It took decades to accept this information. Eventually I found my exact nationality and am quite proud to claim it and to know who I actually am.
Note: If you decide to go to the Geneology Room of the NYC Public Library for your own research, it is located at the Irma and Paul Milstein Division of U.S. History, Local History and Genealogy ( http://www.nypl.org/locations/
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My next post regarding The Search will be about a letter I consider sacred that I received from New York Foundling Hospital.
Note: If you decide to go to the Geneology Room of the NYC Public Library for your own research, it is located at the Irma and Paul Milstein Division of U.S. History, Local History and Genealogy ( http://www.nypl.org/locations/
____________________________________________
My next post regarding The Search will be about a letter I consider sacred that I received from New York Foundling Hospital.
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